


Forgiveness

by CoconutRum



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Will Graham, Desk Sex, Hanni-boners, Hannibal Lecter is a Tease, Light BDSM, M/M, Mild S&M, Murder Husbands, Revenge Sex, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26308546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoconutRum/pseuds/CoconutRum
Summary: Will attempts to arrest Hannibal.Hannibal is not surprised, and in fact calls Will out as RUDE. And we all know what Hannibal does to the rude!Hannibal is insulted --> revenge sex! Desk sex!Ch1. Hella tension. Some dick touching going on.Ch2. Hella sex. Hannibal takes it out of Will's sweet ass.STUNNING ARTWORK BY ZILLABEAN HERE:2 VERSIONSDeviantart/safe for work: http://fav.me/de4zirrTwitter NSFW: UNCENSOREDhttps://twitter.com/Rexxaliciouss/status/1304582173643567104?s=20
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 35
Kudos: 481
Collections: NSFW Hannigram, When the Cat Met the Mouse





	1. Caught

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zillabean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zillabean/gifts).



> A lovely plot bunny, courtesy of Zillabean. Thank you for the inspiration! I hope you like the mischief the boys got into in this one, as well as the delicious imagery that came as a result!
> 
> Extra points for in pants Hanni-boners! <3
> 
> STUNNING ARTWORK BY ZILLABEAN HERE:  
> 2 VERSIONS  
> Deviantart/safe for work: http://fav.me/de4zirr
> 
> Twitter NSFW: UNCENSORED  
> https://twitter.com/Rexxaliciouss/status/1304582173643567104?s=20

From the dark foyer, Will watched as Hannibal meticulously folded some sort of plastic suit, placing it in a large tote off to the side. The man’s long musician’s fingers caressed it as though it were a lover’s skin; a smile on his lips, crimson flecks in his sandy hair.

Graham felt a chill climbing up his spine as he fought his own nerves to stop what felt like shivering.

Gun poised, the young profiler took a sobering breath, assessing his options.

He had to move fast, take the man by surprise; or should he move slow? Be logical with Hannibal in hopes of using reverse psychology on the man. 

Reverse psychology on *Your Psychiatrist!?!* Will chided at his idiot self, shaggy hair falling in his eyes. He adjusted his glasses; sweat beading on his face. 

“Ok. Take minute,” he thought, looking back at the lanky, graceful man who was now elegantly writing at his desk as though he had not just committed the crime for which Will was about to arrest him. 

“I can’t do this,” Will doubted. “It's HANNIBAL...god of all things related to manipulation, dismemberment and mind fuckery!” -- his mind raced on, watching the well muscled man. He knew what those muscles were capable of; how viper-fast he could strike, dominating anything in his path. His presence alone demanded respect; and radiated a seductive threat of danger. Exquisitely controlled chaos; a low undercurrent of unstable electricity thirsty for someone to unleash it.

An unwelcome heat pooled between Graham’s legs and he clamped his eyes shut.

“Focus!” He nearly hissed at himself. 

Steeling himself once again, he honed in on the scratching noise of Lecter’s (probably expensive) fountain pen, the rustle of his (definitely expensive) clothing when he reached for another sheet of paper, the creak of his (even more expensive) shoes as he leaned over his desk.

Calmed, Graham chanced another look from his shadowed place around the corner. 

“This is it,” He told himself, checking his gun and cuffs were at the ready. His hands were clammy, heart rate elevated and his cerebellum was screaming for him to run. 

He pressed his skull against the wall, watching from the corner of his eye, and began counting down from 10.

9...8...7...  
He started edging his foot into position to pivot…

6...5...

Will shifted his weight, holding his breath; his gaze fierce and steady.

4...3….

He raised his gun, every muscle pulled taught through his wiry frame…

2…

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?...”

Graham’s body did a full jolt; his heart leapt into his mouth and ice water cascaded through his veins.

Hannibal hadn’t even looked up from his writing. The man had the nerve to simply assume his own safety in his own office. As though Will were a child playing a game!

Graham bristled a bit, trying to not feel --or even acknowledge-- either the freakish level of vulnerability he was experiencing, nor the ever fleeting, but present sting of the words and their implication.

He shoved his empathy down, hoping to bury it in a lead box. This would be HIS design.

Pointing his gun at the doctor, he slowly emerged from his post, incensed at Hannibal *still* not making eye contact. He merely sat there, scribbling god knows what. The majority of his attention on his papers; Will suddenly felt as though he would rather throw a tantrum than follow through with his task.

“You seem to be in some distress, Will,” The man drawled; his rich voice like fine scotch and smoke. It wrapped around the young profiler like silk; slithering across his flesh.

“Surely I can be of some…*assistance* to you this evening, as you’ve made such a point of seeking me out tonight…” he continued, words dripping like honey.

Graham balked, quivering in place, nearly paralyzed. This was not his design. 

“Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” Will’s voice shook, “I am placing you under arrest for crimes most sinister in nature…”

The older man’s eyes darted up from his desk, without raising his head. His gaze bore a hole in Will’s vision. The low light accentuated his prominent brow, his painfully chiseled cheekbones.

Graham felt as though he were in suspended animation. A mouse trapped by a wild-cat.

His cock gave an unexpected bob, as sparks of adrenaline and arousal popped and flew through his hips.

Swallowing hard, he held Lecter’s stare, fighting to ignore the overwhelming penetration of that gorgeously seductive scrutiny. 

Hannibal glanced back down at his work, tapping the papers between long fingers, assembling them into a neat pile and capping his pen. 

Will was suddenly enamored with the length of the man’s nail-beds, admiring the delicacy with which he handled the fountain pen.

A husky voice brought him back to reality.

“I assume I have no choice in this matter, and that you expect me to….come quietly, now?”  
His heavy lidded eyes went back to Will; dark lips slightly parted, showing a glint of teeth.

Will’s breath hitched; he forced himself forward, hands fumbling for his cuffs.

“Doctor Lecter, you have the right to remain silent.” He watched Hannibal’s mouth curl into a cheshire grin as he continued, “Anything you say can, and will be used against you,” Graham’s voice was weak. He held his gun firmly, unhooking the cuffs from his belt. “If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you.”

Nonplussed, Lecter reached for the glass of white wine at the corner of his desk, and deeply inhaled the bouquet. He swirled it, studying the winking of light through the golden liquid. 

Will watched, half in fear, half in subliminal fascination as the doctor drained his cup, tilting his head back, arching his neck, exposing the strikingly diaphanous column of his throat. He saw the masculine throb of the man’s adam’s apple as he swallowed; his own mouth suddenly dry and head slightly dizzy.

“It’s the simple pleasures, Will,” the doctor said, setting his glass down; his words articulate, and drawn out, as though he wanted to taste each one and savor it. 

“Wine, food, and sex,” his eyes glittered in the low light. “I thank you, Will, for allowing me that one last rapture.” A broad hand gestured at the empty glass.

Graham swallowed hard, again, trying to assemble his powers of speech.

“Stand, facing the front of the desk, hands behind your back.” He unclipped the cuffs, his body still fighting its own instincts to bolt. 

Hannibal locked eyes with the profiler. His look, a blend of seductive, predatory and threatening.

Placing his hands flat on the sturdy surface, he rose from his seat and came around towards Graham; all the while Will held his breath until the man turned away from him to face the work space.

He watched toned shoulders and chest rise and fall as Hannibal placed his fisted hands together behind his back, just above his belt which (embarrassingly noted by Will’s subconscious,) so elegantly led the eye to the perfect swell of his ass.

A consensual act of submission. 

His brain chewed through its leash and wandered down a forbidden corridor, vividly exposing thoughts of him wanting to forcefully spread the man’s legs, hinge him over the desk and…

A hot blush crept into his cheeks, and Will felt his cock twitch, promptly inhaling through his nose and shaking his head. 

“Keep it together, Graham,” He thought to himself, “Seriously...what the fuck was that about?”

He cleared his throat, holstering his gun.

“Doctor, I’m taking you back to the station, where you will be ….processed...and put in holding.”  
He felt his glasses begin to slide down his nose again. His skin felt prickly and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he approached the older man. 

At any moment, Lecter could strike. His very breath was movement enough to spook the brunette into reflexive action.

Will felt the heat radiating off of him; saw Hannibal’s muscles subtly expand and contract his ribcage and spine through his crisp white shirt. 

He reached forward, fingers grasping Hannibal’s arm, the innocently intimate contact sending electricity to his groin.

“I admire your professionalism with this, Will.” Hannibal quipped, letting the profiler wrap the cold steel to his wrist. “If you would allow me one small courtesy?”

Eyes downcast, he turned his head towards the profiler.

Will remained silent; frozen and attentive with bated breath.

“I would appreciate if you would please take my suit jacket from the back of my chair and bring it with us to the station,” he nodded in the direction of the suit, tousled hair falling into his serpentine eyes.

Graham rolled his own eyes. Of *course* the man would want to be well dressed, even when under interrogation. Smarmy git.

His thoughts swam through a fog of smoky images of him gazing up at the doctor from his knees; the taller man in a pristinely pressed blue suit, standing with his hands folded in front of his hips; long legs slightly parted, licking his lips, cocking his head looking down at Will, commanding him to...

“Get your *shit* together!” Will internally chided himself.

“I’ll be sure to get it,” Graham mumbled as he clipped the second cuff onto Hannibal’s other wrist. 

He took a moment to exhale, the more difficult part of his task nearly done; and he did a mental inventory of the man in his grasp. His towering height, magnificent physique, and the stunningly well oiled machine that was his mind. This glorious specimen was now at *his* mercy. 

His lower gut did a flip at that heady notion.

Hand on the chain of the cuffs, Will nudged Lecter to move forward.

Hannibal felt cold steel bite his flesh with Graham’s added pressure; hissing through his teeth as he sauntered forward; hips swaying languidly; his posture that of a retired dancer who to this day held himself in high regard.

The two men approached the door; the profiler barely breathed as they crossed the room; convinced the man in his custody would suddenly vanish into thin air. 

He took in the smoothness with which Hannibal walked. His quiet grace and dignity, even under such circumstances. His presence, and ease with which he succumbed. 

Will still felt as though he had a tiger on a leash. 

Graham’s nerves dissipated ever so slightly as he grasped the door handle to leave the office; only to return three fold when he heard a glossy voice whisper to him,

“Will…” Hannibal was looking down at him, nostrils flared, expression dangerously unreadable.

Will looked up, squeezing the man’s arm tightly as he continued.

The taller man gently turned his upper body towards the desk, nodding at the chair.

“My jacket.” He watched the cogs turning in Will’s mind, slowly shifting his weight and body so they were both facing the inside of the room. “I won’t go anywhere, I assure you,” he finished with a feline grin.

Will pressed him backward, towards the door, heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

“You know I can’t do that,” he stammered, losing his nerve, “I promise, I’ll pick it up later tonight.” He felt Hannibal’s back *thunk* against the door, making his (annoyingly persistent) cock twitch in unwelcomed approval, “Now, come with me.” His resolve was disintegrating. 

Will made an attempt to turn Hannibal back towards the exit, but the man became a wall, foiling his efforts. 

Graham’s breath quickened as he registered his fragile house of cards threatening to shatter and fall to the cold floor. He fought to control his heart rate. 

“Doctor Lecter, I must ask you to step aside,” his words sounded pitiful, even to him. 

He gave the chain a twist, hoping the pain would provoke the doctor into moving. 

Will immediately regretted his idea as soon as he put it into action.

With alarming speed and accuracy, Lecter shifted, bodily slamming Will’s own arm harshly against the solid wooden door; the cuffs cutting into both of their hands.

The young profiler saw specks of white light across his vision as pain lanced through his fingers. He instinctively retracted his hold, trembling as he saw and felt the bruise flooding across his knuckles. He hunched over, one hand gripping the other in a primal reaction to stem the pain. 

The entirety of his body felt ridgid with ice as he watched Hannibal hook the cuffs over the door knob and pull downward with immense strength. 

Blood dripped on the floor, and to both Will’s horror and humiliation, he also saw an unmistakable bulge had formed at the doctor’s crotch.

Shock was taking over his mind and body. Before he could speak, he heard crunching metal on metal, and watched, mortified as Lecter then placed his hands to his sides; a cuff hanging from each bloody wrist, complete with dangling segments of broken chain.

“You broke my hand…” Will stuttered; painfully aware of his misplaced, and completely idiotic comment.

“No I didn’t,” Hannibal smirked, “At most, a hair-line fracture, I assure you.” He casually palmed and adjusted himself through his tented pants, and began to advance towards a now cowering Will.

The tiger was off his leash.

Will stood up, reaching for his holster, maybe he could convince him with that threat.

“I’d rethink that idea, Will,” Lecter sneered, as though he could read Will’s mind. His hand came to rest on Graham’s shoulder.

The brunette went stark still, fingers brushing the grip of the gun. 

“Don’t hesitate,” he thought, taking a sobering breath, trying to ignore the disturbing bulge in Hannibal’s trousers.

His training kicking in, Will grabbed his gun and went to raise it to the doctor’s face.

With cat-like speed, Hannibal pulled down and backward on Graham’s shoulder, kicking his legs out from under him, sending the young man dropping to the flat his back.

Graham felt his gun fall from his grasp, the wind knocked out of him, his head swimming.

Hannibal reached for the iron fireplace poker, and held it to Will’s chest. The pressure was enough to keep Graham from trying anything stupid. Lecter stood in a fencer’s pose, one leg back, the other one forward and bent in an elegant lunge. 

Graham tilted his head up, his eyes roving over the powerful man holding him hostage. He trembled, and subconsciously licked his lips as his gaze fell to the man’s crotch. 

He felt blood flooding his dick, making him light headed.  
What the fuck was wrong with him? He was at the mercy of a strikingly magnificent mad man who may indeed kill him on the expensive carpet of his stupidly luxurious office. He couldn’t begin claiming ignorance of the tenting of Hannibal’s pants, causing his own to go uncomfortably tight.

“Clearly you’ve been wanting this for some time, Will,” Lecter jested, sliding his foot forward to rub over Will’s cock.

Graham moaned, placing both hands on the iron rod at his chest, blushing furiously.

“I’ll call for backup…” he snivelled; his hips threatening to arch into the pressure of Hannibal’s expensive shoe.

Lecter added the slightest pressure, savoring his prey wriggling on his hook, watching the young brunette wince and whine.

“Ah, see now Will, you would have only brought backup...If you didn’t want to get caught.”


	2. Forgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will attempts to arrest Hannibal.  
> Hannibal is not surprised, and in fact calls Will out as RUDE. And we all know what Hannibal does to the rude!  
> Hannibal is insulted --> revenge sex! Desk sex! 
> 
> Ch1. Hella tension. Some dick touching going on.  
> Ch2. Hella sex. Hannibal takes it out of Will's sweet ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lovely plot bunny, courtesy of Zillabean. Thank you for the inspiration! I hope you like the mischief the boys got into in this one, as well as the delicious imagery that came as a result!
> 
> Extra points for in pants Hanni-boners! <3

The iron rod pinched at the tender skin of Will’s chest as Lecter mercilessly twisted it clockwise.

“You see, you’ve left me at a disadvantage here, Will,” the doctor squinted down at the young man, now turning his hands counterclockwise.

“Ungh…” Will gasped, feeling the bite of cold metal grinding against him, his dick aching furiously. He wondered how the hell the other man saw himself at a disadvantage as *he* was the one pinned to the bloody floor.

“I had quite a lovely dinner planned, Graham. With one lovely Miss Freddie Lounds.” His accent made the ‘L’ and ‘S’ of of her name sound like something sinfully dirty. 

Hannibal leaned over the struggling profiler. 

“Now, you’ve made me late. And I find that to be very…”

The pressure of Hannibal’s foot increased on Will’s cock…

“Very….”

Will arched his back, canting his hips, fisting the plush rug.

Hannibal rubbed his heel in circles over Graham’s fly, his own length threatening to leak through his pants…

“Rude.”

He gave a final ounce of pressure downward onto the young man’s sternum, while rubbing up and down Will’s cock; earning him a whimper.

Will prayed to be swallowed by the floor as he felt his dick grow painfully harder, and his mind flooded with humiliating thoughts involving carpet burns.

“Doctor Lecter,” he whispered, “Please…”

“Please?” Hannibal goaded, setting the iron-piece aside and crouching down; his legs slightly splayed, accentuating his impressive girth pressing firmly against his clothes.  
He pressed a hand to Graham’s chest.

“You break into my office, attempt to arrest me on charges without allowing me to defend myself, and suddenly…*Please?*” He clutched at Graham’s thigh, kneading the supple muscle.  
“I’m insulted.”

He gave the young man’s leg a generous pinch, before gliding up to grip the edge of Will’s hip, pinning him further. His knee replaced his foot against Graham’s cock, body weight tantalizingly threatening along the brunette’s body.

“Yes, er...no...I’m…” Will gasped, struggling to breathe, “I’m sorry.” He craned his neck to look at his captor. 

He was met with smouldering, lamp-lit eyes; impossibly dark, blown with lust.

His heart beat impossibly faster. 

This was wrong on every level. His brain fought for solace as he began to submit to his cruel, disgraceful fantasies. 

The doctor crawled over the younger man, bracing his arms on either side of Will’s head, taking the man’s hands in his own and pressing them firmly to the floor. The profiler could smell the metallic tang of blood on the cuffs; the hot, salty breath on his face. 

“Would you like to be forgiven, Will?” The man’s voice was dripping with implication as he pressed his hips downward, grinding his length against Will’s own. 

“Oh...God…” 

“Hannibal, or Doctor Lecter will do…” he chuckled, “But I’ll take that as a yes.”

The brunette couldn’t bear it. His legs flexed, his pelvis began to rock, silently begging.

“Ah ah ah….” Hannibal brought a finger to Graham’s lips, “You don’t get to make demands here.”

Will nodded stupidly, feeling as though his limbs had turned to Jell-O.

The doctor gracefully stood, towering over his prey, yet again, looking like a model gentleman out of a Rolex advertisement or James Bond film. 

He extended an arm for the smaller man to join him. Graham stood, trembling.

“Now, since you so rudely interrupted, I believe you owe me a proper apology.” He gripped Will by the scruff of the neck, the young man yelped in pain and surprise. He felt his neck wrenched back, as deeply colored lips ghosted over his mouth.

“Would you agree?” 

Graham sighed, “Yes.” He brought both his hands to Hannibal’s wrist. A plea. 

“Yes … what?”

“Yes, Sir,” he whispered; his mind reeling in defeat and desperation.

“Lovely.” Hannibal quipped cheerfully as he spun Graham around, and began pushing him to his desk until the front of the man’s thighs were flush against it. 

Both men stood in silence. Will’s brain in overdrive. This couldn’t be happening. The only time anything remotely resembling this had happened, was during his morning wank in the shower. But this was...beyond that… this was…

“Bend over, Will.” Hannibal placed a broad palm between Graham’s shoulders.

The young man gulped down an embarrassing moan, and hinged at the waist, hands flat on the desk, trying to avoid the papers and wine glass.

“Good, now, please bring your hands together.” 

Behind him, Will heard fabric sliding on fabric as the doctor undid his tie. Bringing his hands together (in some obscene means of prayer) he waited.

Hannibal curled his body flush against the younger man, his dick throbbing against Will’s ass as he tied Graham’s wrists together with the silken fabric. His long arms reached effortlessly, tying the man to a leg of the desk over the opposite side, leaving him at an awkward angle.

The doctor stood back, assessing his prize.

“Do you know why you’re being punished, Will?” He undid Graham’s belt, neatly pulling his pants to expose him, admiring the fine globes of flesh.

Will felt warm hands palm his bottocks; exploring, analyzing, parting and probing.

“Because I was rude…” he hissed, feeling a finger against his entrance.

“That’s right,” Hannibal wrapped an arm to Will’s front, gripping his hard length, stroking slowly.  
“And what do you have to say for yourself?” He pumped the young man at an agonizingly slow pace, his grip barely touching the oversensitized skin.

“I’m sorry…” Will bucked his hips, his cock swollen and neglected.

“Sorry for what, Will?” Hannibal released the man, and Will heard the sound of another buckle being undone.

Two fingers broached his entrance, they were bone dry.

“Sorry, for *what* Will?” the doctor pumped his digits in and out of the profiler’s hole, his other hand pressing him against the desk.

“For...for...insulting you…” he keened, pressing backward into the stimulus, hoping for more.

*SMACK* a palm landed hard against his right ass cheek. 

“You. Don’t. Make. Demands.” The doctor’s voice was low and quiet. Dangerous. Each word accentuated by another smack.

His ass now red, and glowing, Will bucked his hips forward, instinctively, his dick nearly pinched against the desk. He let out a mewl. Lecter watched, waiting for the man to still. 

Fingers resumed their task, pumping, twisting in horrific pleasure. Will’s breathing was heavy; a sheen of sweat dampening his shirt. 

Hannibal rubbed up and down against his back, his cheeks, his sides, all causing him to quiver.

“Again, I appreciate your professionalism here, Will,” Hannibal fisted his own cock, lining it up to Will’s puckered hole, pressing the head to his entrance.

Graham swore he was going mad. That he would spontaneously combust into crimson powder and be nothing but a pile of ash. His heated body braced for the assault, begging to be torn apart. He felt the head broach his cheeks, inhaled deeply and…

**Bzzz….** **Bzzz….**

All contact ceased, Hannibal raising a phone to his ear...completely collected as though he were at a pool in fucking Denmark.

“Freddie, yes hello mon amor,” his voice was liquid sex, “Yes, we are on for tonight. Although, I must push our appointment back to 8 O’clock.” He paused. “ Yes, thank you, ma belle fille…Bonne Nuit,” ever the gentleman, he hung up.

“Musn’t keep a lady waiting,” he grinned, realigning himself, gripping either side of Will’s waist.  
“Now, I believe you were about to show me your sincerest apologies.”

Before Will had processed the audacity of what had just happened, and without preamble, Hannibal thrust to the hilt; pain streaking through Graham’s spine.

“Ugh...Mmff...Yessss….” Will fought for breath, his chest heaving against the meticulously written papers. “I’m sorry.” Lecter pounded mercilessly, rubbing his insides raw, “I sssoooo sorry…” his eyes were clamped shut; his body being crushed beneath the older man’s weight, each thrust moving him forward against the edge of the desk. His cock bumped against the woodgrain, its purple head occasionally bobbing from his abdomen down against the solid surface. He grit his teeth, seeing stars.

Hannibal was pistoning and rutting into Will now at an animalistic pace; both their bodies hunched. The doctor wedged a hand beneath the brunette to pinch at a nipple, leaning down to nip at his shoulder. Graham was staring over the edge, praying for release.

Will let out a pitiful cry at the assault, his brain hating itself for wanting nothing more than to be used; owned; possessed; destroyed.

The doctor threw his head back, snarling; Will felt him spill himself hot and sweet inside his channel. The older man spasmed, slowed and rode out the waves at a languid pace now, massaging Will’s prostate.

Graham bucked wildly against the desk, reveling in still being held in place by Hannibal. 

Lecter tenderly brushed the hair out of Will’s eyes, whispering in his ear.

“You are forgiven.”

Will’s vision went stark white as he exploded with electricity as he came hard across his belly; his mind going blank.

Hannibal removed himself, fetching warm towels and cleaning himself up.

He untied Graham from the desk, let him clean and dress, then lead him to the large cushy chair he usually sat in for therapy. The brunette sank against the cushions. Speechless.

Hannibal looked down at him, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“If you would be so kind, dear William…” he held up a cuff-sporting wrist, a smirk on his face, one eyebrow raised. Will sleepily obliged. Half convinced he was still dreaming, but too weak to protest.

Hannibal rubbed the raw flesh, gingerly; the twisting and rubbing motion sending Graham’s mind reeling with unprecedented pleasure. He took a sobering breath.

The two sat in silence for a few moments until…

**Bzzz** **Bzzz**

Lecter answered, his voice even; possibly chipper with content. He crossed his legs and brushed a bit of lint from his own shoulder.

“Jack, good evening.” He listened to Crawford for a moment; “Yes, Will is right here, with me. No...no he can’t talk at the moment. We just had a rather...personal ...and very intense session. As his psychiatrist, I must insist he is not imposed on at the moment. Yes, I will let him know. Thank you Jack.”

Standing, he placed the phone in his pocket, and strode towards the door.

“Jack needs to see us in his office, immediately,” he said curtly, professional as ever.

Graham slowly meandered towards the door, still blissed out albeit, slightly terrified, and quite incapable of speech.

The doctor opened the door to leave, slowly turning his head to face the brunette.

“Oh and Will,”

Graham locked eyes with him, curious what the hell the man could possibly need or want.

Hannibal subtly jutted his chin towards the desk

“My jacket, if you please.”


End file.
